


Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

by corruptedkid



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Christmas Eve, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-16 17:30:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16958412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corruptedkid/pseuds/corruptedkid
Summary: Poison stirs and squints his eyes open. “Ghoul?” he murmurs. “What’re you doing up?”“Merry Christmas,” Ghoul says simply.





	Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> so, uh, i have this emotional problem where every time i listen to have yourself a merry little christmas it makes me really sad for no reason? and it also fits the killjoy verse very well? so i made this. lowkey inspired by [this piece of art](http://tennyboo.tumblr.com/post/14707847846/aaand-have-some-depressing-christmas) by [tennyboo](http://tennyboo.tumblr.com/).
> 
> for best results, listen to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sHVIVNoIPVM) while reading

The ground outside is glazed over with frost.

Ghoul wishes the summer could last forever. It’s hot and sweaty, yeah, but there’s so much _life_ in it. When winter rolls around, everything feels dead. The sun is always blocked by clouds, and the sand turns dull; the world is cast in a muted monochrome. It eats at him slowly, from the first crunch of the frozen ground beneath his boots to the ever-present chill that makes his bones shiver.

And then the ghosts come to call.

They fill Ghoul’s head when he closes his eyes. Whispers, memories, feelings half-forgotten. The ones that have almost faded away are the worst. Even when Ghoul surrounds himself with the family he’s made, it never stops that terrible, aching loneliness.

It keeps him awake.

Ghoul sits up, the old mattress creaking as his weight shifts. The alarm clock reads 11:56. He shivers, pulling a ratty blanket up over his shoulders. Far in the distance, he can almost hear laughter, the jingle of bells. Warmth and joy call out from the past. It would’ve been snowing about now. He’d run outside and spin with the flakes, and when he came back inside, there’d be a home-cooked meal and a blazing fire.

The diner is cold and dark. The seconds tick by, and the clock switches to 12:00.

Ghoul shouldn’t even keep track of the date. Most people have stopped by now. It’s too much of a reminder. But even if it hurts, there are some things he can’t let go of. 

He stands up, keeping the blanket around his shoulders, and goes into the next room. The Girl is curled up next to Poison, swaddled in a cocoon of blankets. Poison has exactly zero. He’s shivering in his sleep.

Ghoul sighs and sits down on the mattress next to him, taking care to disturb the Girl as little as possible. Poison’s eyebrows twitch, and he shudders, his arms tucked tight around his middle. Ghoul takes the blanket from his own shoulders and drapes it over him.

Poison stirs and squints his eyes open. “Ghoul?” he murmurs. “What’re you doing up?”

“Merry Christmas,” Ghoul says simply. 

Poison sits up slowly. “Is it already?” he asks. “That’s… wow.”

“Yeah.” Ghoul moves a little closer to him, and Poison leans against his shoulder. A few moments pass in silence. Ghoul’s grateful for it. The weight in his chest isn’t something he can express in words. He can only meet it in the quiet places, where the last traces of memory linger. 

He never knew how quickly things could change. The future was bright and beautiful - until it wasn’t. For a while, it was all bombs and fear. Now, it’s… Ghoul doesn’t know what it is. He only ever thinks from day to day, now. The most he can hope for is to keep his little family together. 

If he could have one wish, that would be it. 

“What are you thinking?” Poison asks softly. He gently combs his fingers through Ghoul’s hair.

“What comes next,” Ghoul murmurs. “For us. All of us.”

“Hm.” There’s a long pause before Poison speaks again. “Guess we’ll never know,” he says. “Let’s just hope the fates are kind.”

Ghoul doesn’t really believe in fate.

“Do you think we’ll be okay?” he asks. “Really?”

Poison smooths his hair back. “Yeah,” he says. “We’ll make it through somehow. We always have.”

“But what have we given up for it?” Ghoul turns to look Poison in the eye. He’s still half-asleep, but that kindness, that softness in his eyes is still there, just like always. Ghoul doesn’t know how the desert hasn’t frozen it out of him yet. It’s a miracle. He’s a miracle. 

“Everything,” Poison says. He doesn’t try to lie. Ghoul loves that about him. 

“But we’ve made something new,” Poison says. Beside them, the Girl slumbers on, nestled in her pile of blankets.

“It isn’t the same,” Ghoul whispers.

“It isn’t,” Poison agrees. “It never will be.”

All they can do is remember. 

Poison reaches out and runs his thumb across Ghoul’s cheek. It comes away wet. Ghoul hadn’t even realized. “Merry Christmas, Ghoul,” Poison says softly.

Ghoul leans against him, and together, they bear the cold.


End file.
